Ultimate Web of Scarlet Spider
by A Landstander
Summary: A new spider is in town. A year has passed since the monumental tragedy of Spider-man. Even with a new webslinger taking up the mantle, only so much ground can be covered. Hiding in the shadow of the Bronx, a new Spider-Man has stumbled onto a plot that could shake the foundation of New York.


New York City, a jungle of steel and concrete, a place that had all but fallen into despair, and became overrun with beasts. People urged to satisfy selfish materialistic desires through means not deemed lawful. The supposed peacekeepers aren't ever around when they're needed, and those beasts continue to burrow and nest in the bowels of the city, satisfying their hunger by attacking the small and weak. You could say this is nature at have predators and prey. Definition of both is easily up to debate depending on situation and subjects of species. So to make it quick, I'll just bring up the food chain here in the city. We have the homeless at the bottom, common folk, upper middle class soccer moms, rich but stupid, the thugs and thieves, and at the top, puppet masters. The puppet masters quickly got back to work, and even hastened their little shows when the ultimate predator was killed. However, to the puppet masters and the thugs; they had made one minor miscalculation and forgot one key link in the food chain; me…..

Ultimate Web of Scarlet Spider

Chapter 1: Copycat~ Enter Spiderman?

It was a bright and seemingly carefree summer afternoon in the glorious Big Apple. The city was alive once again after the terrible tragedy of Peter Parker nearly a year ago. People were out and about to tend to their errands and the working class hurried back to their place of business before their lunch break was over. The golden sun was radiating her warm rays down to the concrete canyons below; the wind was gentle and carried her bright sister's warmth throughout the city. In a day like this, there was nothing that could bring the people down. That would be true to all those who didn't read the Daily Bugle this morning. For those sitting outside of King Tony's Mattress Kingdom, they were about to find out why.

"So, anyone read the Bugle this morning? Maria, Freddy, Jackie?" A young brunette rhetorically, but angrily asked, walking towards a small group of people sitting at an old wooden picnic table set in the large shade casted by the building. To his surprise, none of his peer he had addressed even bothered to acknowledge his statement with words, and worse yet, even a glance in his direction. "This is kinda a big deal here! We have two, not one, but TWO copycats HERE in this city!" Again, the group remained silent and ignorant to his presence. Yet again, he persisted, "First we have that shrimp show up and now we have a thug who-"

"We get it, you're pissed off. We've heard enough of your bitching about the short Spiderman, Keith; we don't need you to fill us in on why you hate the new one." The brunette was cut off by Jackie, a man who sat at the table with eyes never leaving the laptop screen in front of him. "If it bothers you so much, go find them both and bitch to them; spare us your complaining."

Keith was left without words, taken aback by the annoyed and tired tone of Jackie's words. Jackie seemed to have that effect on many people around him; if not his words and tone, his appearance did the trick. He was a very odd man, very rarely seen without something covering his neck for some reason or another. While dressed in the Mattress Kingdom uniform of a red polyester short sleeve shirt, he sacrificed comfort by wearing a black turtleneck underneath. Large dark bags clung under his bloodshot eyes, which even now have never have wandered away from the flame in which his moth orbs were forever drawn too. His long auburn hair hid the crimson strain in his eyes; but it ultimately covered his cheeks to hide a large patch that covered the left side of his cheek. He continued to suffer from self-inflicted insomnia with a near obsessive need to constantly be on the net. Sleep deprived as he usually is, needless to say he is very irritable and quick to snap at people.

"Calm down Dexter Douglas, no need to get snippy." Turning her attentions back towards the brunette, "We all read it, Keith. Just let it go. It has nothing to do with us and that's how it'll stay." Maria's words struck all the wrong cords, dumping gasoline in the raging inferno within. Slamming his palms onto the old wooden table, Keith tried to shout back in protest; the words were unable to leave in the presence of Maria. Her offensive glare always placed the riled and enraged Keith back into defensive submission, again, bringing him back to a, not calm, but contained state back into his seat. There was nothing more that he could do or say. If looks could kill, the glares of the dark haired woman beside him would have him six feet under eighteen times by now. He tore his eyes away from Maria and turned his attention to the final member of the group, Freddy.

The group's mascot of some sort; Freddy was the group's token hipster, or at least wannabe hipster. With artificial platinum blonde hair, a tiger stripe military jacket with obscure, but terrible bands patches shoddily sewn onto the ripped sleeves, bright violet pants that were far too tight for him, and steel toed black boots. A spectacle to behold, and with such an extravagant appearance, you'd best believe he took a lot flak from both his peers and complete strangers. Oddly quiet the entire time, he too averted his gaze away from the, red in the face, Keith.

"Anything you'd like to add Captain Morgan?" Keith asked, his words just dripping with venom.

"I have no opinion what-so-ever. I wasn't into the whole Spiderman craze."

"Well isn't this just sunshine and rainbows. I can't see how you all could flat out care less that these fakers are stealing and smearing the good name Peter Parker invented to save all of your ungrateful asses from harm. Well, you can be all, oh I don't care, but I DO. You guys make me sick, I-I- I can't be around you anymore, peace."

The brunette was quick to storm off and be taken by the current of people wandering the streets. The three left behind could only turn their heads back towards the surface of the table; well, two of the three at least. Silence once again reigned supreme; the only sounds remaining were that of New York's ambiance. Moments later, the awkward barrier of silence was broken by the one who did not show any guilt for running Keith off.

"You know, he's not wrong for being angry. I'll admit I was pretty peeved when the new Spiderman showed up shortly after Peter Parker's death." Jackie stated.

"I heard he was also there when Peter died. Spiderman was his hero; he used to go nuts over the Bugle's smear campaign when Spiderman started getting big. I really don't know what to tell him anymore. As insensitive as we have been, I can't sit him down and tell him 'Ey, Spiderman is dead; deal with it', I just can't. At the same time, I won't deal with him getting angry after every little story." Maria responded.

Before Freddy could get a word in, a steel door flung open from behind the table from the Mattress Kingdom building. A large, bald headed man dressed in a red polyester shirt and a gold vest over it, poked out the top half his body from behind the door. "Hey, Jacqueline!" The man shouted, "Get your skinny pale ass in here and get back to work. Your lunch break is over."

"Yeah yeah, Muscle Man; keep your shirt on, I'm commin" The sleep deprived male shouted back, closing his laptop with a refreshing, click, sound when it locked into place. "Well, that's my cue. You guys better head out before Genghis over there calls security." As he began to walk back to his place of business, Freddy's words reached to him.

"Do you think Keith'll do something stupid?" Paused in his tracks, Jackie turned his head towards Maria, whose mouth slowly curled downwards with a quick flash of her pearly whites.

"Freddy, I have no doubt in my mind, that Keith will do something incredibly stupid….."

* * *

><p>Nightfall arrived as the sun retreated with the coming of her dimmer brother, the bright full moon. In the center of the city, the bright lights and the people drawn to the life nightfall brought, roamed the streets, bathed in many colors from the neon lights from bars and many other places of interest. The further away from the heart of the city, the darker, bleaker, uglier side of the city, rear's its grotesque face in the darkness of alleyways and shops that were unfortunate to be located in less trafficked areas. Here, far away from the heart, the magic, the music, the excitement, turns into fear, which in turn creates anxiety, and soon after, paranoia. Little sounds can no longer be trusted. People could no longer be trusted. It was unbelievable to think people could change so dramatically at night outside of fiction. No, people can turn into monsters at night, with or without a curse from a mythical beast. They did not magically transform into monster with the coming of the shade of night. They were always monsters, but wear the form of sheep during the hours of light, only letting loose where they cannot be seen.<p>

Even now, beasts were busy at work, stealing from a small electronic store in a poorer neighborhood. The viewing window was smashed open, a crude way to break into a store. The alarm must have gone off by now. The beasts that had invaded, four of them, would be out of there within a few minutes after taking the money from the register or stealing the business' safe that may or may not be within the building. They would be carrying televisions, who wouldn't rob an electronic store and not leave without at least two with as many people are involved. Well, too bad for the beasts. Maybe during the day they would be dressed as sheep; tonight for sure, they were indeed the sheep, to be preyed on by a superior predator.

"Show time."

A flash of bright red zipped through the damp alleyways, having zipped its way down from the rooftops to the ground. The flash continued to move with precise steps, avoiding garbage puddles that leaked from dumpsters as well as stray cans of beer and soda. Its footsteps could not be heard, nor did the flash ever step into the grounded spheres of light that lay in a straight row down the dirty street. Closer and closer the flash approached the violated place of business. A beast stood outside the window, most likely to keep a look out for any onlookers who may give away their faces or call for assistance. A man, tall, but hardly built to be a predator. Slim wrists, a small handgun in his hand, skinny arms, and the look of anxiety written all over his aged and tired faced. Black trousers, black sweater, two black smears under his eyes, and a black beanie hat hugging his cranium; simple, effective, classic; it was really a damn shame that he had to be the first victim.

Remaining within in the shade of night, the crimson flash continued to move at a quick and steady pace. The closer he got, the slower he moved and quieter he moved. Slowly slinking upward behind the man, a face masked in crimson neared itself towards the ear of the thug in black. With a whisper that sent chills up the spine of man, it spoke,

"You wanna hear a secret?"

The eyes of the man immediately bugged out like a Volkswagen and a silent gasp escaped the dark caverns of his mouth. Immediately after, a blow horn was brought the man's ear, and without warning, the trigger was pressed, unleashing a loud blast of sound that not only threw the man off, but was heard throughout the area. Their activities were about to be discovered.

"What the hell was that?"

"The tooth fairy signaled ya; check under yer ass for a quarter. Don't ask stupid questions, just get yer ass outta here and go check it out."

A second man, stronger in build in comparison to the last, stepped out from the shattered window. Like the man before him, he too was dressed in the classic attire for cat burglars. Unlike the last, he appeared to be unarmed. He is taller than the first, his chest sticking out more with more confidence, further complimented, or rather detracted, by a thick mustache-less beard on his face.

The man's confident vibe dissolved as he found that he was alone. He walked forward, pulling a large flashlight from out of his back pocket, turning it on to scan the darkness. He strayed not far from the window, but enough to look into the patches of black casted by the shadows of night. In the corner of the light his device created, a foot was caught. He quickly shined the light closer to the foot, nearly dropping the flashlight at the sight of the first man, covered head to toe in webbing, stuck to an alleyway wall.

"Your turn…."

* * *

><p>A loud thud against the eastern wall of the store broke the concentration of the two remaining thugs that were still within the building. They remained quiet, save for a few hushed whispers between each other. The both of them slowly made their way towards the broken window, reaching for their handguns strapped to their hips. Three streetlights suddenly shut off, the faint sounds of glass breaking and hitting the pavement soon followed. The duo both broke into a cold sweat, hesitant at first, but continued forward none the less. The store's front door's handle jiggled violently, but broke into silence with a heavy, click. The knob slowly turned.<p>

With a loud and long creek, the door slowly blew open. In the doorway, a tall shadowy figure stood before the two. It took one heavy step forward, the two thieves taking a step backward in response. It threw a large mass onto the ground in front of them, pulling out something out of its chest; it was too dark to distinguish what, if anything it had pulled the object from. From the silhouette of the object in hand from a glimmer of light across the street, it was enough for the two to deduce it was a weapon. They both raised their handguns up, the shadowy figure looking down both barrels.

It raised its arm up, pressing a button on the object to shed light and on the previously unseen. What it revealed, much to the horror of the duo was the man they had ordered to investigate the blast of sound, only to be completely covered in thick webbing. The light was quickly redirected towards the face of the figure, exposing its shadowy secrets with a scarlet colored mask, devoid of the black webbing outlines worn by a previous hunter of the New York's scum.

"It's Spiderman!"

With those words, the need for silence was gone. They pulled the triggers on their guns and fired towards the masked mystery man. Their bullets missed, and the light that cut through the darkness was swallowed once again in shadow. They turned their backs to each other, trying to make out the vague forms within the dark building. Sometimes, something will move, but whenever a shot was made, nothing but plastic and glass was ever hit. Fear ate away at their previous confidence, their minds going numb with uncertainty. A foe that could not be seen, but could strike at any place at any time under the veil of shadow and there was nothing either of them could do about it. A reversal in roles proved too much for the destructive duo. Even in their black clothing and matching ski masks, they no longer appeared as predators. Now the predators had become….prey.

"Mac, we gotta leave, now!"

"Shut ya whiny trap and keep ya trigger finger frosty. The Spiderman aint shit with a bullet in his chest."

Despite the bold words from the shorter of the two thieves, he was scared. His heart thrashed within the confines of its boney prison. Cold sweat developed under his mask. Most notably, but not always seen, his legs shook violently, almost unable to support the man above them. His hand wobbled while his arms moved his piece in many directions in front of him.

The man whose back faced his partner's felt similar effects of fear. Larger than the man behind, he was plagued with shadows moving in front of him. Right where he pointed his weapon, the shadow would move and blend in with the darkness of the room. His teeth clenched hard, he felt a mild irritation from the base of neck. He hated the feeling of helplessness. No doubt the 'Spiderman' was snickering in what dark corner he hid in. It was enough to drive a man mad!

"Reveal yourself, coward!" He shouted out in frustration.

"Call for the devil, and the devil you shall receive."

Those chilling words spoke from all angles. Sounds of footsteps became audible, but from three different directions. Despite their vigilantism, the taller, heavier built one of the duo was attacked first; coming from out of nowhere, but appeared right in front of him as if he willed himself to appear. Before the trigger was pulled, a tight grip took hold of the man's wrists, sliding down all the way to his shoulder. A glare of white from the crimson mask pierced into his mind, freezing his entire body. In fright, the thug was left motionless as the crimson masked assailant threw its leg high and connecting to a drop kick so hard that it slammed the man hard against the checkered patterned tile. The masked vigilante crouched quickly, launching itself off the ground to meet the staggered thief with a finishing blow. With, seemingly, enough force to dent a truck, the fist of 'Spiderman' met with both the stomach and under the jaw of the low life under it. Immediately after, it pounced back, letting loose a tiny sphere from within its wrist. When it made impact, it exploded into a thick coat of webbing, resembling that used on the former assisting scumbags.

"Next!"

Mac, the shorter of two, and the last remaining unbeaten would be thief, could not react fast enough against the swift movements of the 'Spiderman'. He fired three times towards his aggressor, but to dismay, he was unable to hold his weapon as fear overtook both his clarity and the ability to hold his arm steady. The 'Spiderman' suffered no such disability, and for even attempting to place a bullet in it, it attacked with force much greater than that used on his partner.

Its knee was met to Mac's stomach that was soon followed with a solid and straight forward punch to his upper chest. He was knocked back and skidded down the room on his back; the store's merchandising did well to aid the 'Spiderman' as, with a mind of their own, attacked with their weight as the thief slid down aisle two. It did not stop there, no, this was just the beginning. Its heavy footsteps forced Mac's heart to skip a beat as they grew heavier and louder the closer it got to him. Terror filled his green spheres and was soon replaced with the reflection of a red masked shadow leaping towards him. The weight of his attacker piled onto his stomach with its rough landing. Yet, despite all the damage it had done to his gang, as well as himself, this one did not feel it had to relent in its attack. Four more straight punches to the masked Mac's face, then he was lifted up and thrown across the room, knocking displays and stands over. Picked up again, Mac was thrown across the room, but towards his webbed up partner, soon to join him in sticky confinements as. Like before, the 'Spiderman' shot two more spheres from its wrists, covering 'Mac' right next to his partner.

"Well then, I'll spare you any further humiliation and won't gloat over my victory. Let's see who you really are Mac…..Gargan!"

Having made its way across the room, the 'Spiderman was able to unmask the apparent ringleader of this little shindig. Under the mask was a male approximately in his late-forties, give or take. He was familiar to the 'Spiderman', but not in a pleasant way. Facial features too difficult to tell under the red mask, the 'Spiderman' threw its arms into the air.

"Didn't we already go through this? H-h-how did you manage to get out? Who's this moron? Lemme guess…"

Turning its attention to the second masked man, the masked vigilante ripped the black mask off, and with no surprise, he guessed the man's identity without any problems. Oh you better believe that it was not pleased to see yet another familiar face in this position. The 'Spiderman' could only bring its palm to its face, dragging it down with a long sigh in utter annoyance.

"Dmitri Smerdyakov….. Seriously, how are you shmucks not in jail? Didn't the cops take what I left you of you two away last night? You'd think that little beat down last night demoralize you guys; I mean, I'm no thief squad expert, but you'd think such a crushing defeat would, say, I don't know, make you not want to try again with a lunatic like me on the loose? But in all seriousness, what did you guys do to escape, melt your prison wall with acid and pretend to be laundry men? "

"Maybe you should make sure we actually get taken away, bug boy."

"I told you this was a bad idea, Mac!"

"Aw shaddup. We'd have gotten away with it if ya got lackys that can take a punch."

"You're pinning this on ME!"

Watching the two 'lovebirds' fight was assuming for a little bit, but now it was just getting old; not to mention it was getting late. Interrupting the two, the 'Spiderman' rolled the two into a collective lump of man and artificial webbing, stating, "Well, normally I'd separate bickering couples and recommend counseling, buuuut I think you two need to kiss and make up. The two of you will be spending a lotta time together."

* * *

><p>A crowd amassed outside the store; the commotion of the blow horn and the fight inside causing the local residence to wonder what was happening under their noses. However, with the murmuring crowd came a portly man dressed in silk pajamas rushing towards the window, shouting the words, "My store! My store!"<p>

Through the window, out came the collective mass of Mac Gargan and his associate in crime, Dmitri Smerdyakov, followed shortly after by their second lacky who was unfortunate enough to be made an example of; his body completely cocooned in webbing. The thugs weren't the only people to leave the store. The 'Spiderman' just chose to leave through the front door rather than the window.

The murmuring continued amongst the people. Confusion was rampant after the death of Peter Parker. Public anger towards second Spiderman's appearance so soon after Parker's death, despite having been a year ago, still had a bitter taste amongst those whom the original had touched. Looking at the faces of the people around it, the third couldn't say it knew what to feel on how well received its activities of the evening. Well, at least one man was adamant about his feelings towards the new 'Spiderman', the storekeeper. His face was red with rage. The damages the 'Spiderman' had caused would be a hefty price to pay; sure hoped he had insurance.

The man approached the 'Spiderman' with heavy steps and loud breaths, but was stopped in his tracks by the flashing of blue and red lights followed by a loud, familiar siren. The police had finally showed up after taking their sweet time to show up to such a poor neighborhood; and yet, as soon as the police vehicle came to a stop, to no surprise, the 'peacekeepers' immediately pulled their weapons and pointed it towards the only person in a mask.

"Freeze!" A female cop shouted.

"Hey, how bout earning your paycheck correctly and not arrest the guy who did your job for ya, eh?" In retrospect, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say to the people holding guns.

"This man beat up these…THESE…..SCUMBAGS, and…..and…AND…RUINED MY STORE!" The shopkeeper exclaimed at the top of his lung in sheer rage, worsening the situation.

The situation was beginning to look worse and worse with each passing second. The squad car's headlights shined and pulled the 'Spiderman' out from the veil of shadow, revealing a, rather silly combination of clothing. While the 'Spiderman' tried to look cool, black boots, grey fatigue pants, a Spiderman costume top underneath a black motorcycle jacket, and the a Spiderman costume mask, with just enough of the plastic web outline still clinging for dear life at the bottom and around the eyes of the mask. Surely the snickering around him wasn't just its imagination.

The cops, though noticeably trying not to laugh, still held the vigilante at gunpoint. Even though the 'Spiderman' was behind a mask, it was noticeably irritated by the atmosphere; hell even Mac and Dmitri, having been forgotten in this whole mess, were affected by the tone set by its appearance in the light. Reaching into its coat, the 'Spiderman' exclaimed.

"You know what; I don't need to take this! I'm going home!"

That definitely broke the silly air about the situation, and both officers that stood behind the doors of their vehicle were immediately snapped to attention with the wandering hand of the 'Spiderman'. It removed a handful of black colored spheres from within one of the inside pockets, and threw them onto the ground, exploding into a thick smokescreen that not even the bright headlights could pierce. As the smoke cleared only moments later, the 'Spiderman' was gone, but in its place, a small card was left, reading, "You're welcome; Sincerely, Not Spiderman".

* * *

><p>The next day, under the shade of the great and still shoddy building of the Mattress Kingdom, a familiar youthful face returned to the table in which he had humiliated himself the day before. In an attempt to approach his peers, whom always sat at that very spot this time of day, he again sparked conversation. But as soon as he opened his mouth, the trio of people only turned to him with cold glares, and in unison said.<p>

"Yes we read the Bugle this morning."

Keith was speechless, and reluctantly took his spot at the table beside Maria, his eyes a little bloodshot with notable bags that hung under his hazel eyes.

"Hey, you look thrashed. Keep up these late night parties and you'll end up lookin like Jackie-boy over there." Freddy commented.

Jackie did not bother to respond with words nor did he bother to acknowledge that a cheap shot was made towards a friend at his expense.

"Pleasantries aside, the Bugle did make some recent additions to their article on our little copycat friend. Turns out someone with a camera was on the scene and they've put a photo up at the attempted robbery over in the ghetto. The robbers were beat up pretty bad. One of them had to be pried off a wall. Oh, what's this now….."

The table's attention was now captured with the curious tone of their sleep deprived reader.

"Woah, turns out the guys the copycat caught weren't some two bit criminals. Turns out two of these guys were pretty famous cat burglars back in the day. Mac Gargan from Brooklyn is wanted for stealing a painting from the International Spy Museum in D.C. Kind of ironic, ain't it? And then we have Dmitri Smerda-somthin from who knows where, is wanted for… hmmm, doesn't say. When you think about it, isn't robbing an electronic store kinda beneath them?"

The group glanced back towards each other; they resided to a quick shrug before turning their attention back towards the auburn haired male.

Maria placed her elbows against the wooden surface, letting out an audible sigh, "So what's the new guy look like?"

"Um…"

"Come on, spill."

"Spiderman meets motorcycle fetish on a budget…."

It was difficult for even Jackie to say that with a straight face. His mouth muscles worked very hard to resist a smirk. Maria and Keith on the other hand, howled out in laughter. Tears ran down their eyes when Jackie turned his precious laptop around to show the new defender of the city. The only one not laughing was Freddy.

"You guys seriously have no sense of fashion. You can cling to your tights, this look is hot. Besides, this is only a beta look. All super heroes go through a crap costume phase, and then they get someone to make em a good costume."

Keith managed to calm himself enough to finally respond to the negative Nancy at the table.

"As long as he."

"Or she." Maria was sure to add.

"As long as he oooooor she keeps wearing that, we will have to come up with a nickname for the loon."

"Hate to break it to ya, buddy boy. People already beat us to it. The comments on the pic are flooding in." Jackie responded.

"Oh, wait. This one is actually kinda good."

Looking back towards his peers, "What do you guys think of this name?"


End file.
